YAT ES MCKEE Post-Communist Notes on Some Ve rtov Stills To read a work ...is to allow yourself to lose the bearing which assured you of your sovereign distance from the other, which assured you of the distinction between subject and object, active and passive, between past and present ( the latter can neither be suppressed nor ignored); lastly it is to lose your sense of the division between the space of the work and the world onto which it opens. CLAUDE LEFORT, "The Image of the Body and Totalitarianism" Islamism and avant-garde art ... les extremes se touchant. SUSAN BUCK-MORSS, Thinking Past Terror Still The still is still here-not quite present, but uncertainly remaining. It lingers, suspended and mute in the absence of the work, after the completion of its diegetic movement, afterwe think we've processed it at the level of experienceor cognition. Conventionally, we are trained to grasp it as a part of an absent totality, a stand-in that leads us back to a conscious memory of a specific scene, a general plot, an ideological 268 YATES MCKEE 1. Dziga Vertov, Man with a Movie Camera, 1929. Film still. operation, or a fo rmal convention. It is an agent of recalling and preserv­ ing, though it sometimes brings with it something we never fully experi­ enced, something that hits us in an untimely or belated way. However we assume it to operate, the still is a kind of ruin, bearing witness to violence in more ways than one. The present text takes this ruinous violence as its starting point, responding not to a self-contained work but to an image that has been arrested and cut offfrom its original context, detoured fromits presumed destination, exposed to unforesee­ able readings and reinscriptions. Ye t while the image has been deprived of its original time and space as the absolute anchor of meaning, the still has a certain (displaced) role to play: we know that the image is not just anything we want it to be, that it doesn't come out of nowhere or submit passively to our willing manipulation. It is an irreducibly Singular image taken from Dziga Vertov's Man with a Movie Camera (1929) (fig.1).1 It will be immediately apparent to anyone familiar with the film that this procedure is no coincidence-that it borrows its strategic resources from the very thing it violates, if only to exceed it, making the film tremble fromwithin. This trembling calls out for what Walter Benjamin called a "constructive" reading, rather than a pious historicism that would be content to establish Man with a Movie Camera either as the progenitor of an idealized digital revolution in which the empowered "image manipulator" reigns supreme or, conversely, as the paternal guar­ antor of a beleaguered academic avant-garde anxious to protect its authorityin the intellectual division oflabor.2 Post-Communist Notes on Some Vertov Stills 269 Hailed by these antithetical voices, both of which imply a certain kind of closure (the one celebrator)1J the other melancholic), I want to ask, "Is that all?" This is the question that haunts Roland Barthes's essay "The Third Meaning: Research Notes on Some Eisenstein Stills:' It comes at a moment when Barthes, having exhaustively accounted for the fo rmal and ideological codes at work in an Eisenstein film still, is confronted with something that refuses to fit into his preestablished theoretical matrix, exceeding the structuralist mandate of making evi­ dent the image's meaning. It fulfillsno apparent purpose in the function­ ing of the film, yet it remains there, "disturbing-like a guest who obstinately sits on saying nothing when one has no use for him:'3 This useless, uncanny guest demands that we bear witness to what Barthes calls the "gash" that it effects in the process of signification. According to Barthes, such an encounter is fo reclosed by our everyday viewing habits, ensnared as we inevitably are in the diegetic movement of cinema, which tends to "suture" the gash and absorb it as a "signifyingaccident:' It is fo r this reason that Barthes praises the "major artifact" of the still for its capacity to overflowthe function typically assigned to it: provid­ ing a metonymic sample of a film text assumed to otherwise coincide with its elfin its temporal unfolding, what he calls the "operative time" of cinema. Brought to a standstill, pinned down in front of us, the image does not secure our analytical gazej paradoxically; it is only in being arrested that it opens onto an enigmatic temporality of reading that oscillates in an incalculable way between past, present, and future: the third meaning "appears necessarily as a luxury, an expenditure with no exchange. This luxury does not yet belong to today's politics, but nev­ ertheless already to tomorrow's:'4 This essay will attempt to unfold the implications ofBarthes's cryptic evocation of a politics-to-come by performing a historical reading of a still fromMan with a Movie Camera. In keeping with Barthes's sense of the still as an interruption of "operative time;' reading historically will here involve cutting the image out of the established narratives into which it has hitherto been inserted and placing it in relation to other images, times, and spaces--which, as we shall see, are in fact uncannily proximate to the oeuvre of Vertov himself.s This displacement will be informed by a certain post-Communism. This term marks both the specificpost -1989 geopolitical conjuncture in which any contemporary practice of reading must take place and a theoretical orientation at odds 270 YATES MCKEE with-but not simply opposed to-the neo-Communist revival that has taken place among some political theorists and art critics of the Left during the past decade. The aim of my reading is to provoke critical reflection on the heritage of world history imparted to us fromVe rtov, yet informed by Jacques Derrida's caution, in Sp ecters of Marx, that "an inheritance is never gathered together, it is never one with itself.... If the readability of a legacy were given, natural, univocal, if it did not call for and at the same time defy interpretation, we would never have anything to inherit fromit ... one always inherits from a secret-which says 'read me, will you ever be able to do so?' "6 Mirror of Production .As suggested above, Vertov was, up to a point, familiar with the violence of the still, emerging as it does out of more general violence at work in cinematic meaning itself: "to edit; to wrest, through the camera, what­ ever is most typical, most useful,from life; to organize the pieces wrested from life into a meaningful rhythmic visual order:'7 Man with a Movie Camera famously makes this process visible, especially in the scene at the editing table that cuts between moving images and their constitutive stills, exposingthe undecidable play between human and technical ani­ mation that underlies cinematic diegesis. The latter is shown to be an effect of a dynamic act of production, illuminating the status of the film qua signifying visual structure and industrial artifact. Throughout the film, cinematic labor is foregrounded and analogized with the other labor practices it depicts (and which it depicts itself depicting). The scene at the editing table makes this especially clear: the work of the editor is likened to the work of textile production, as both involve the cutting and sewing together of heterogeneous pieces into a continuous socio-mate­ rial text. yet because of this very visibility, the seamlessness usually achieved by the ideological mechanism of "suture" is here suspended, making it available to consciousness . .AsErik Barnouw puts it in a typical assessment, "The artificialityis deliberate: an avant-garde determination to suppress illusion in favor of heightened awareness:,g Barnouw's remark captures the dialectical inversion that animates Ve rtov's epistemology,which was inseparable fromhis praxisas a whole. Influenced by futurism, Vertov repudiated attempts by "literary" film- Post-Communist Notes on Some Vertov Stills 271 makers to transcend the perceptual and cognitive dynamism of moder­ nity by appealing to a mythically natural human sensorium. For the latter, film wouldreproduce a static, pregiven perceptual world (whether real or fictional), treating the camera as a transparent medium passively reflectingreality rather than intervening upon and negating its givenness. It was precisely this capacity of man, supplemented and extended by technology, to negate given reality that constituted the essence of the Communist project within whichVertovwas immersed. Equipped with a movie camera, man would not merely show this process fromthe outside but would materially enact it, giving an immanent demonstration of the new principle upon which Communist society would be founded: the sovereignty of the collective as a producer of objects, films, and ul­ timately its own self-consciousness.As Ve rtov put it early in his career, "We /Want / To / Make / Ourselves:'9 Insofar as industrial Communist "making" in general involved dynamism, speed, automation, repetition, fragmenting, decomposing, and recomposing, a revolutionary cinema had to make these processes central to its own synaesthetic articulation of a "meaningful rhythmic visual order;' or "visual symphony;' as it is called at the opening of the film. Not present to the naked, merely human eye, "film truth" was grasp­ able only through an active dialectical vision that Vertov figured in terms of reading and writing: on the one hand, Kino-eye perfo rmed a kind of hermeneutics of the social text, "the communist decoding of the world on the basis of what actually exists:'Ye t freed from its encryption in naIve perceptual reality,the hidden meaning of the world would have to pass back through another media-the "absolute film writing" com­ prising the final filmtex t-in order to become legible.